Identification Haircut

There's a dictionary of revolutionary justice to be written
And the Ghanaian contribution should be self evident
Whereas in those heady days, we became familiar with choice terms
"Economic saboteur", "hoarder" and so forth
Far from original, most of these last were imports

Radio bulletins with orders to report to Gondar Barracks
"With immediate effect"
Dismissals from one's decades-long job
Overheard as you worked on the weekend

And then there were those eruptions
Showing just what was thought of our respect culture
Chants of viciousness:
"Let the blood flow", "We no go let them pass"
To strip a market woman naked and make her walk the streets

Shame

Still, our depraved champion was "identification haircut"
The practice might have cruel antecedents but they gave it our local spin
With blunt knives or bayonets, soldiers would shave their victims
The shaved head, scarred and bloodied
The mark of the conqueror

Shame, but linguistic gold
The Ghanaian interpretation of the Scarlet Letter

Shame, a Playlist

I can only recycle a previous soundtrack for this note. It imprints something in the mind. (spotify version)

See previously

• The Wages of Thermidor
• June 4th
• AFRC Member

File under: shame, outrage, violence, coup, mobs, cruelty, language, culture, observation, perception, Ghana, Africa, military, blood, rogues, The Rough Beast, memory, Buyer's Remorse, poetry, toli

Writing log. May 1, 2022

Damage is Done

Mobs are unkind, bent as they are on destruction
Cruelty dispensed in the rush to street justice
Blood in the sinews fully primed for action
Apt to casually cut short the lives they surround
Swiftly maiming in sinister displays
On the flimsiest of evidence, wrath lays to waste
The chants that lead to screams
Proud weapons of the unquiet
Pain for certain. And the damage is done

Soul tectonics
Comes the taint of shame in the aftermath
The aftershocks on the psyche
Their effect lingers even on the most righteous
Despite themselves, perpetrators join victims
And off the curdled ground painted with their handiwork
They pick up scar tissue and red ligaments
To be imprinted on later remembrances
Thus bound together in disharmony, they stagger forth
Heavy with the burden of the extra weight
And the gods, for they are watching, exact a further price
The wounds of the beholder will not heal so easily
Regret perhaps. But the damage is done

Damage is Done, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

• My Sin by Hank Mobley
• Aftermath by Ronny Jordan
• Remember by Hank Mobley
• Damage by H.E.R.
• My Sin by Hank Mobley

See previously The Wages of Thermidor and June 4th

File under: mobs, violence, crowds, blood, street, crime, memory, culture, observation, perception, social, Buyer's Remorse, shame, cruelty, poetry, toli

Writing log. May 1, 2022